“And so,” she continued, “I just came round to see if I could be of any use.”
“Very kind of you,” said Melchett again, even more drily this time. “But nothing to be done. Haydock’s taken him off to hospital.”
“Actually to hospital? Oh, that’s a great relief! I am so very glad to hear it. He’ll be quite safe there. When you say ‘nothing to be done,’ you don’t mean that he won’t recover?”
“It’s very doubtful,” I said.
Miss Marple’s eyes had gone to the cachet box.
“I suppose he took an overdose?” she said.
Melchett, I think, was in favour of being reticent. Perhaps I might have been under other circumstances. But my discussion of the case with Miss Marple was too fresh in my mind for me to have the same view, though I must admit that her rapid appearance on the scene and eager curiosity repelled me slightly.
“You had better look at this,” I said, and handed her Protheroe’s unfinished letter.
She took it and read it without any appearance of surprise.
“You had already deduced something of the kind, had you not?” I asked.
“Yes—yes, indeed. May I ask you, Mr. Clement, what made you come here this evening? That is a point which puzzles me. You and Colonel Melchett—not at all what I should have expected.”
I explained the telephone call and that I believed I had recognized Hawes’s voice. Miss Marple nodded thoughtfully.